Restitution
by fokker333
Summary: After a long nine years away from Neptune with minimal contact, FBI Special Agent Veronica Mars returns to her hometown. Attempting to reconnect to her past and to fix her mistakes, she find herself and her loved ones in greater danger than she could possibly imagine. S1-S3 canon-compliant, semi-movie-compliant, S4 teaser-compliant.
1. Chapter 1

"We, the jury, find the defendant, Cecil Abbot, guilty of the serial kidnappings, rapes, and murders of Petra Santos, Brigid Spearing, Susana Favager, Delilah Scrivens, Sandra Roth, and Jenifer Dreyer."

Amidst the thunderous applause, shouts of satisfaction, and sobs of relief that rang out through the courtroom, the short blonde woman sitting in the stands breathed a sigh of relief. After almost three months of continuous investigation, sleepless nights, stress headaches, and copious amounts of coffee, the case was finally over.

"Finally," FBI Special Agent Klaus Orlov murmured to her. "That was a hell of a case, if I do say so myself."

"Damn straight," Special Agent Veronica Mars replied, leaning back in her chair as the rest of the courtroom streamed out, having been dismissed by the judge. "What a nightmare."

And a nightmare the case indeed had been. Veronica had stopped keeping track of how many nights her sleep was interrupted by nightmares, induced by the bloody, mangled bodies of the rape and murder victims. The nights that she dared to sleep, anyway.

"Hey Mars," her partner Klaus said, nudging her. "Wanna go for a beer? To celebrate another successful case. The rest of the guys from the office are gonna be there."

Veronica slowly let her chair settle back onto all four legs, and slowly rose. "Nah," she said, stretching her spine with a groan. A long day of sitting in the courtroom watching over the trial had taken its toll on her body. "You go ahead and enjoy yourself. I'm going to go home and sleep. God knows I need it."

Klaus watched her with concern. "You okay, Mars? You look…"

"Like shit, yes," Veronica replied, a small smirk of amusement crossing her tired face. "It's okay, I'll be fine. Just haven't been sleeping much lately. Hopefully now that this case is over I'll be able to get some shuteye."

"Might wanna see a shrink if it's that bad," Klaus called over his shoulder as he left the room. "The boss might order it anyway."

Veronica sighed again. She knew without the doubt that the director would, in fact, order a psychiatric evaluation for her. In fact, the way she had reacted to this particular case might even merit a temporary suspension while she mentally recovered from the trauma.

True to form, the evening saw Special Agent Veronica Mars, one of the most decorated members of the New York City district of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, trudging out of the director's office with orders to take a leave of absence for at least two months, along with mandatory sessions with an FBI-approved psychiatrist.

Walking along the busy New York sidewalk toward her one-person apartment, Veronica mentally ran through her options for the next two months. There was little reason for her to stay in New York; she was under orders not to do her job, her boyfriend Stosh "Piz" Piznarski had broken up with her only two weeks prior because he couldn't handle the stress her job was placing on him, and she no longer had any interest in the entertainment possibilities the City That Never Sleeps had to offer her. She had ceased being that sort of girl a long time ago, and after five years in the FBI, few things could keep her interest other than her job.

A sudden thought struck the tired detective, and she stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, ignoring the protests and irritated comments of the people around her whose walking was disrupted by the interrupted traffic flow. Why not return home? Not to the shabby apartment that she was living in, but rather the town that she grew up in: Neptune, California.

Veronica frowned. She hadn't visited Neptune since she had left, nine years ago, to pursue the FBI internship offered to her during her first year at Hearst College. She never looked back, choosing instead to pursue her career elsewhere. Upon completion of the six-month internship, she had been admitted to Columbia University under a full academic scholarship. She had graduated magna cum laude with dual degrees in forensic science and criminal psychology, and was immediately recruited by the FBI. Following the standard 20-week training course at the FBI Academy in Quantico, Virginia, her illustrious career as an FBI Special Agent had begun.

She could count on one hand the number of times she had made contact with the people of her past: her father Keith, twice, Wallace, once, Mac, once, and oddly enough, her mother Lianne, once.

She had written two letters to her father, once when she graduated, and once when she completed her FBI training. He hadn't responded to either of them.

Her meeting with Wallace and Mac had been complete coincidence. She had been out on a case with Klaus, and simply ran into her two old friends. The few words that had been exchanged were abrupt and – had she only imagined it? – cold. A pang of regret shot through her at the thought that she had almost completely ignored her best friends. The last she heard, the two of them still were living and working in Neptune. This might be the perfect time to make amends with them.

Veronica had encountered her mother, Lianne Tanner – she had since remarried – in a case that Veronica and Klaus had worked alongside the DEA in. She didn't want to revisit that memory, nor did she want to see the expression on her mother's face as she was led away in handcuffs for possession of illegal substances.

The thought of Neptune and her old life also cause painful thoughts of Logan Echolls to mind. Her relationship with her ex-boyfriend at the time of her departure from Neptune had been rocky at best, and she had tried her best not to think about him since. Memories of their time together surfaced unbidden, and she pushed them away, unwilling to re-experience the pain they brought with them.

It was decided, then. She would visit Neptune for the two months that she had on leave, attend sessions with the FBI psychiatrist in Los Angeles in the meantime, and attempt to fix the bridges that she had burned so thoroughly in the past. She expected drama, emotions, and shouting matches, but after five years in the FBI, Veronica had learned to accept the inevitable. If she wanted to fix the mistakes of her past, she would have to suffer through the pain. Besides, she could deal with it, right? She was Veronica Mars after all, FBI Special Agent, former high school private investigator, with the no-bullshit reputation that had served her well in high school and beyond. She'd be fine.

Little did she know that trouble, more trouble than she would ever have imagined, would follow her all the way across the country, turning what was supposed to be a semi-relaxing, therapeutic vacation into a living hell for both the blonde investigator and those whom she, even after all this time, held dear.


	2. Chapter 2

"Neptune. Yeah. That's the town, the one that I grew up in…" Veronica rolled her eyes at her partner's response. "Look, it's just for two months, I just want to see some old friends and family… _Yes_, I'll see the shrink there… No, I won't go snooping around, however tempting it may be. I know about Neptune's reputation – I _grew up_ there remember? Listen, Klaus, as much as I appreciate your concern, I'll be fine. When haven't I been? Don't answer that question."

She listened to the voice of her partner over the phone for a while longer, then finally said, "Klaus, don't worry about it. I'll see you in two months. Tell your wife I said hi." She hung up amidst Klaus's joking complaints. Sliding her phone into her pocket, she was struck by a sudden sense of nervousness as she walked into John F. Kennedy International Airport.

During her senior year of high school, she had developed a slight fear of airplanes following the ordeal with Cassidy Casablancas, when she had for a horrible few hours believed that her father had been killed by a bomb while he was flying home with a pedophile under custody. Although her father had turned out to be alive and well, having, through an incredible stroke of luck, been convinced by the incompetent sheriff not to fly in the plane, Veronica had never really forgotten the moment of sheer terror she had felt when she watched Woody Goodman's private plane blossom into flame in the night sky.

The Boeing 777 that she was scheduled to fly direct to Los Angeles on was far more secure than some corrupt politician's private turboprop, Veronica told herself. It would all be fine. In a few hours, she'd be on the ground in sunny California again, and she wouldn't have to worry about crazed psychopaths planting bombs on planes.

Going through the line, her FBI instincts kicked in and she furtively surveyed the people surrounding her. Single mother with two young children, happy couple, a group of college students on spring break, a business man in an expensive suit; nobody in particular caught her attention. Veronica breathed out a sigh, something she'd noticed she had been doing a lot of lately.

Telling herself that she was just being paranoid, Veronica squared her shoulders and pushed through the crowd until she reached her terminal. Checking her watch, she noticed that there was still twenty minutes until her flight was scheduled to touch down, which meant at least forty before she could board. Resigning herself to doing nothing for forty minutes, she sat down with her luggage beside her and pulled out a novel. Allowing herself to be engrossed in the book, she failed to notice the man watching her from the opposite terminal.

Six hours later and Veronica found herself walking out of LAX, pulling her luggage behind her. She squinted in the bright sun. She had missed the year-round summer weather in SoCal, having spent nine years in the cold and cloudy climate of NYC.

Signaling for a cab, she gave the driver the address for the Neptune Grand Hotel and settled down for the long drive home. Closing her eyes for a nap, she didn't see the nondescript dark green sedan that followed the cab all the way from the airport until they got off the highway at the exit for Neptune.

The taxi pulled in front of the Neptune Grand Hotel just as the sun was beginning to set. Veronica pulled her luggage out of the trunk, tipped the driver, and walked into the hotel. The lobby was a nostalgic sight; the dim ambiance and soft music playing in the background nearly brought tears to her eyes as she remembered the times she had spent the night in this hotel; first with Duncan, then with Logan.

Shaking her head to clear the cloudiness caused by a six hour flight and long drive, she booked herself an affordable room – the FBI was footing the bill for travel and rooming – she took the elevator up to her room and flopped onto the bed without bothering to change or unpack. That night, for the first time in two months, in the town that she grew up in, the town where she had gone through many ordeals and trials, Veronica Mars slept without a single nightmare.

…

Shrouded by shadow, the man in the driver's seat of the car that had tailed Veronica from the airport smiled, pearly white teeth glinting faintly in the pale moonlight. "She just checked into the Neptune Grand. Room 437."

"Understood," a disembodied voice said into the man's earpiece. "Keep an eye on her. The rest will be landing in a few days."

"Yes sir. We'll get the bitch this time."

…

Veronica Mars was unable to describe the feeling in her chest that she experienced as she woke up the next morning. She had slept for a solid, uninterrupted eight hours – the first time since the serial rape and murder case had started – and the feeling was glorious. But that contentment was tempered by the thought of facing her past again. She hadn't told anyone that she was coming back to Neptune, and she was planning on visiting them one at a time.

Her father, she knew, was still running his private investigator's business. She idly wondered as she was getting dressed how his business was. The last she heard, the sheriff position had been taken over by Don Lamb's older brother, Dan. She rolled her eyes at the terrible sense of naming convention displayed by the Lamb parents for their kids. Seriously, who names their sons Don and Dan? It was like something out of a comedy show.

Speaking of the new sheriff, Veronica wondered if he was any better or worse than his predecessor. Don Lamb had a reputation for being lazy and negligent, but highly attentive toward child abuse cases. She supposed that was his saving grace, although it hardly made up for the other crimes that he overlooked. It did give her father a good amount of business, though. She hadn't heard anything about the elder Lamb, but if he was anything like his brother, her father's business would be thriving as usual.

She pulled the rented black Chevy Camaro in front of the building that bore the sign "Mars Investigations". Nostalgia washed over her as she beheld the building, unchanged since she had left. Sucking in a deep breath, she braced herself to see her father for the first time in nine years.

The doorbell jangled noisily as she pushed through the glass door. The woman sitting in the waiting area looked up briefly before returning to her magazine. Veronica could hear the muffled sounds of talking emanating from behind the closed doors of her father's office.

The phone on the reception desk rang suddenly, jerking her out of her stupor. An internal struggle waged within Veronica, but it seemed being back in Neptune had caused a side of the detective to surface, a side that she had buried a long time ago.

Striding decisively to the phone, she picked it up and grabbed a pencil and notepad from the desk. "Mars Investigations."

An irate voice blared from the phone, and Veronica winced at the volume. "We do take pictures, but I'm afraid 'shooting the son of a bitch' isn't something we can do."

At that moment, the door to her father's office opened, and she grinned widely at the sight of Keith Mars, Private Investigator. She saw the way her father's eyes widened subtly when he saw her.

"Hi, dad."

"Well, well. Look who it is," Keith's straight face gave Veronica pause for a moment. "My wayward daughter, come home to see her old dad again. For nine years, you don't call, you don't write, you don't visit, and you just expect me to take you back? Is that how it goes?"

Veronica was stunned. "Wait, what? I did write, dad. Didn't you get my letters?"

He just raised an eyebrow, his face still a mask.

Veronica's mouth went dry, and she suddenly felt like she were a teenager again, being scolded by her father. She cursed inwardly as her carefully built-up wall against her past, buffered by the ordeals she had gone through in the FBI, slowly crumbled under her father's gaze.

She noticed in the back of her consciousness that the woman sitting in the waiting area had left. She and her father were alone. Veronica licked her lips as nervousness began to claim her. "Look, dad," she began. "I…" She took a deep breath. "I left Neptune because too much shit happened here. The FBI internship was my way out, and I took it. I couldn't handle everything that was going on here. I just had to get out. You understand, right?"

She looked beseechingly at her father while inwardly cringing. This hadn't been what she had hoped would happen in her first meeting with her father in so long, although she supposed it wasn't unexpected.

The awkwardness that lingered in the air was so thick that Veronica thought she could – pardon the cliché – cut it with a knife. It felt as though Keith's gaze was drilling a hole straight through her skull and into her brain, where her father could read every thought that was running through her head. It felt like eternity – although it was in reality less than a minute – before the silence was finally broken.

"I could never stay mad at you, honey."

Veronica choked. Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks, and she furiously scrubbed them away. How long had it been since she last let herself really cry? She couldn't remember. She hadn't cried when, in her very first case upon joining the FBI, she was assigned to the team working on the murder of a four-year-old girl, and the overly detailed crime scene photos had her waking in a cold sweat, before the recollection of the dream had sent her almost into hysterics.

She hadn't cried since then. Maybe a few instances of moist eyes, yeah, but she never actually let them fall. Not even breaking up with Piz had caused those drops of regret and sadness to grace her cheeks. No, she simply wiped them away and threw herself into her job. And now a single sentence uttered by her estranged father changed everything. It was in that instant that Veronica Mars realized: her return to Neptune would have a far more profound effect on her emotional status than she thought.


End file.
